Mostrando resultados por autor "Emma Hart" en Todas las categorías

If anyone asks, I knew better than to flash my boobs for Mardi Gras beads. I still don't know why I did it. Maybe it was the dare from my two best friends. Maybe it was the guys on the balcony saying they'd throw Fireball shots with the beads. Or maybe it was the quiet guy in the corner of that same balcony with piercing gray eyes, wavy dark hair, and a smile so tempting I wanted to climb up there and lick it off his face. Maybe it was because I never thought I'd see them again. Not that it matters. Not today. Because the hotel I manage was finally bought.

As the last woman standing, I, Piper Carter, am officially a loner. Apparently, that means it’s time for me to get out there and find myself a man. My protestations that I have no time for it falls on deaf ears, and the next thing I know, I’m on a blind date with someone my best friends assure me will be perfect for me. Maverick Donovan, a guy I, uh, know very, very well.

There are some things you just have to deal with - like your hot-as-hell college booty call moving in next door with his adorable daughter. The only time we've ever gotten along is under the sheets. Old habits die hard because two minutes on my front porch is how long it takes us to bicker. Not that a little fact like that bothers my healthy 80-year-old grandmother and roommate who's determined to see me married before she bites the dust.

There’s nothing like starting your Monday morning with a positive pregnancy test. Trust me, I know - because I’m looking at one right now. All I can think is this: Oh, hell. My grandmother is going to kill me. Since this might just send her to an early grave, there’s only one option - pretending the father is my new husband. If only he’ll agree to fake it. Kai Connors was supposed to be nothing more than a one-night stand - a long, dirty one-night stand fueled by one too many tequila shots, where the only promise was to never speak of it again.

I, Elle Evans, am on the run. Not from the fuzz - although that would be more exciting. No, I’m on the run from the four-year-old private tape that, thanks to my vengeful ex, has probably already ruined my vlogging career. There’s nothing like the entire world knowing what you look like mid-O. Creek Keys, Florida, is a million miles away from NYC, and it’s the perfect place for me to hide for the rest of summer until I can figure out what I’m going to do.

My name is Adelaide Astley, and if there was anything remotely exciting about me to tell you, I would. Sure, my uncle is the Duke of Leicester, and my mother bucked family tradition to marry “below” her and open a hotel, but I’m nothing but an aspiring author with a Tudor era obsession. Oh, and I’m spending the summer tutoring the daughter of the current Duke of Worcester. Alexander Winthrop-Bentley is so not my type, but hours of chess games and arguments over Tudor dynasties mean we’re thrown together more often than we should be.

"Don't let the bastards get you down." For 26 years, I lived by my daddy's motto. Which is why "Mechanic Wanted" is all it takes for me to apply for the job at the garage we once owned. And I meet the biggest bastard of them all: Dexter Ryne. Hotter than hell in July and a firm believer that my place is on reception, taking phone calls, and looking pretty. Not getting dirty under the hood of a car. Determined to prove each other wrong, we make a deal.

Macey Kelly has sworn off men: Unless they're going to zip in and out of her apartment quicker than they can give her an orgasm, she's not interested. The last thing Jack Carr needs at the start of the season is for a dark-haired, sexy as sin beauty to be consuming his thoughts. Football is his life, which leaves no time for girls. Avoiding each other is the perfect solution. But when your best friends are in a serious living -together kind of relationship, that isn't always an option.

It’s not you. It’s me. No, seriously. It is me. Not only does my name literally mean “unfortunate”, but that’s the story of my life. Everything I touch turns to crap. An apartment fire - that I swear I was not responsible for - means I’m living back at home with my sex-mad parents. Yay, me! Which is why I need my new job as personal assistant to Cameron Reid to get back on my feet. Three months in this job and I can move back out and, hopefully, remember to turn off my flat iron once in a while.

Let your homeless best friend stay with you, he said. Being roommates will be fun, he said. It's only temporary, he said. He never said I'd fall for him. You know what isn't temporary? The endless stream of dirty socks in my bathroom and empty food packets under the sofa - and don't even get me started on the hot guys who take over my living room every Sunday to watch sports. I can't take anymore. So I propose a roommate agreement. One that will bring peace and order back to my life, complete with rules that might just stop my newfound crush on my best friend in its tracks.

I have no idea why I said yes. Maybe I'd had one too many wines. Maybe I'd done it accidentally. Maybe I'd been sleep-texting. One thing I know for sure is this: I absolutely do not want Ethan Hawkins in my apartment, up in my business, taking over my space. Yet he's here, moving his stuff into my spare bedroom, sending a wave of panty-melting, musky man-scent my way every time he walks past me. Here's the thing. We don't get along - at all. We never have, and I don't think we're going to start now that we're under one roof.

Don’t sleep with your best friend. Take it from me. I did it. And it was awful - I-wish-the-tequila-made-me-forget kind of bad. The problem is, Luke has forgotten. He swears that he can’t remember a thing about that night beyond the trays of tequila shots being set on the tables. But I can't forget. I can’t forget how good his hands felt until I fell over and hit my hip on the dresser, and I sure as hell can’t forget the entire two minutes.

Top tip: Don't put out an online ad offering your services as a fake date. Someone will take you up on it - and it won't just be for one night. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how I ended up being Mason Jackson's fake girlfriend. He didn't even want me to be. No - his sister was solely responsible for me being his date for his 10-year high school reunion. And now, she's responsible for telling his parents our relationship is real. We have no choice. We have to act like this isn't all a mistake.

With all my best friends off the market, it’s time that I, Tori Sussex, join them. So where better to find my future husband than the internet? It’s great. I get to get all the awkward stuff out of the way and already know if I’m going to like the guy before we meet in person. It’s a shame nothing's ever that simple. My relationship with Colton Lane, my best friend’s brother, is the very definition of complicated - dirty little no-strings-attached hookups we’ve somehow managed to keep secret from all our friends for the past six months.

Setting up a dating website with the guy I've been in love with since I was five wasn't my smartest idea. Especially since he's my best friend's brother - thankfully, she's okay with the fact I'm pulling a Sandy, and I'm hopelessly devoted to him. Which is why it's time to get over him. So I do something crazy and ask Dominic Austin to find me a date. He does - if I find him one, too. Since we own Stupid Cupid, it should be easy, right? And it is. My date is perfect. His date is perfect. Everything is perfect. Until he kisses me.

As the daughter of Hollywood's sweetheart, Leah Veronica can't even buy a coffee without finding her face on a magazine stand, so it's no wonder she's launching her first fashion line in secret. With it debuting at New York Fashion Week in just under a month, extra time in the spotlight is the last thing she needs.

Look, I didn't go out of my way to sleep with my next-door neighbor. It just happened. On the counter. Over the counter. Probably under it, too, if we hadn't moved it to the bedroom. But take it from me: a one night stand with your neighbor? It's not all it's cracked up to be....

Join Emma Hart and Nazia Islam as they discuss serial killers like the serpent Charles Sobhraj; bank heists; scandals; conmen including Robert Hendy-Freegard, aka The Puppetmaster and much, much more. Follow on Instagram @felonious.pod and visit feloniouspod.com to see our show notes.

Welcome to the Mindful Student Podcast: the podcast sharing small steps in self-development for students, by students. Each week, Shannon and Emma will be discussing all things student wellbeing with the aim of helping students thrive at university. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.